


Flutterings

by Gadhar



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Drabble, Lestrade gets weird feels, M/M, Prompt Fill, Sherlock gets yelly, Sherlock keeps staring, Undercover, for like 5 seconds, oc baby napper, people gawk, stomach flutters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Gadhar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're undercover, because of course Sherlock says that's the best plan and who's Lestrade to disagree. And really, who is he? But honestly, pretending to be gay and married to Sherlock is making him feel some weird things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flutterings

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a fill for a prompt on the live journal kink meme. See prompt here~  
> http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21766.html?thread=128396806#t128396806  
> Just a little drab and my first stab at Sherlock/Lestrade. I'd love some concrit.
> 
> I don't own anything but plot.

"This is by far the most degrading thing I've ever done." 

"Well it's not my fault you're such an upstanding citizen who never did anything else degrading."

"No, but this is your bloody idea!"

"It's for a case Lestrade. Now shut up, they could be here any minute."

Lestrade did indeed shut up but it definitely wasn't because Sherlock told him to. It was for the case, he couldn't jeopardize their little ruse by having an outburst here. Everything was for the case, that's what he had to keep telling himself just to avoid standing up and storming out with a well said bugger off to Sherlock and all the lookie loos who were watching them so intently right now, adoration in their eyes.

God, it made him sick, all this pretending to be gay and happily married with people gawking at them everywhere and letting Sherlock drag him all over like a weak, submissive little girl. And it didn't help that all those chaste little kisses, the ones Sherlock insisted were for _convincing purposes, remember the case, Lestrade!,_ made his stomach flutter with an unidentifiable lightness. 

Lestrade glanced down at the sudden warmth enveloping his hand, letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding as the tension slowly drained from his shoulders with each soothing circle of Sherlock's thumb over his knuckles. Normally he'd be startled at the intimacy of the gesture, for one it was Sherlock and two, Lestrade had never been too keen on surprise touches, but this sort of thing had become commonplace over the past few days, ever since this case started really. He shot Sherlock a grateful look, glad to have the calming contact, but the consulting detective hadn't noticed, he just stared intently out the window, watching and waiting.

Lestrade felt the warmth spread as a certain feeling overcame him, something close to fondness he suspected, but before being able to analyze the new feeling Sherlock was out of his seat and strutting out of the diner, leaving Lestrade to hurry after him.

Breathless he entered a dark alley where Sherlock had disappeared. He drew the gun from his ankle holster, squinting in hopes of spotting something. Lestrade's beath caught as something slim and cold slid around his throat, yanking hard. The gun fell from his hand as his fingers clawed at the wire, _a garrote,_ he thought distantly, still trying to put some space between the wire and his throat. 

Then the wire gave and he was falling forward, face smacking the pavement as his attacker rolled over him. Lestrade watched, dazed, as the man stumbled to his feet, taking off down the alley. Sherlock landed in front of him then, setting off after the man.

Lestrade crawled over to the wall, twisting to sit and lean against it, his breath ragged. Sherlock appeared moments later, phone in hand. "I've called an ambulance, there's no permanent marks though and you weren't held without air for that long so you'll probably be fine. The bastard got away."

Lestrade nodded, not really paying attention as he felt around his throat, checking the damage for himself. Sherlock stopped pacing in front of him glared "What the hell were you doing any way!? Stomping in here like a blind fool! If you had even bothered to look you would've seen he stopped long before moving this deep into the alley!"

Lestrade flinched, barely. Sherlock's eyes were a blazing white fire that were burning him even more than normal with their penetrating gaze. _bastard._ It wouldn't have even happened if it wans't for Sherlock always taking off the way he did. They were supposed to approach the suspect together, as a married couple. It was all Sherlock's idea and even _he_ couldn't follow it.

Before he knew it he was sitting on the back of an ambulance, oxygen mask over his face as Sally Donovan explained that, with some insight from Sherlock, they stopped the suspect before he could get too far, rounding him up in some little orphanage. Lestrade felt happy about that, despite all the hassle that came from this case. He was glad to get the baby napper off the street. Anyone that went around posing as a childcare service, specifically for families that had gay parents, just to kidnap their children and sell them off, deserved far worse things than the immediate death that he would've gotten had Lestrade found him first.

Lestrade spotted Sherlock coming his way after Sally turned her back and left. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with anymore of Sherlock's fussiness or his gloating, so he shoved off the back of the ambulance and headed for the curb of the street, looking to get a taxi. 

A hand caught his arm before he could hail one.

"Let go, Sherlock." 

"Are you alright?"

"Let go!" Lestrade snapped, shrugging off Sherlock's hand rather violently. His throat screamed with the movement and he regretted even opening his mouth. 

Sherlock stared at him blankly, eyes flickering to his still raised hand before returning to Lestrade as the offensive hand slipped into his coat pocket. He looked confused, a look he always got, Lestrade noticed, when people reacted badly to him. Like the detective just didn't quite understand where he went wrong. 

Lestrade sighed. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Lestrade rolled his eyes, of all the times for the detective to be distrustful and unbelieving. " _Sherlock, ___I'm mmphff." Lestrade grunted as a pair of lips covered his, hot and wet as a hand wound itself around his neck and another tangled itself in his hair, holding him in place.

It was pure bliss, soft, greedy lips on his with an overeager tongue and just a touch of sloppiness, all hot and possesive, right until Lestrade realized this was Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes of all people, who stated many a time that caring wasn't an advantage, that relationships like these were frivolous and yet... 

Lestrade couldn't bring himself to care past that as he gave in fully to the kiss, disappointed when it ended only a few moments later. Sherlock stared at him, pale eyes searching far too intensely once again as Lestrade caught his breath. 

"I didn't mean to-, I'm so-, _ugh._ Sentiment takes a ridiculous amout of effort." Sherlock scoffed, eyes flicking to a the street for a moment. "I'm glad your okay. Now come on, Greg," Sherlock released his head only to grab Lestrade's hand and drag him into a waiting cab. "To 221b Baker Street." 

Lestrade went willingly, to his own surprise, and sat in the back of the taxi shamelessly stealing glances at the consulting detective next to him who was looking him up and down in a manner that was far from analysing and startling close to seductively. 

Alright, he had to admit, this case was probably the most fun he had in a while on the job, even with Sherlock being overly gay and flamboyant, and he had no problems going back to Sherlock's flat to do whatever it was they would do there. 

Honestly it was a bit exciting, and Lestrade smiled as he felt those fast-becoming-familiar flutters in his stomach. 


End file.
